In Other Words
by AstraPerAspera
Summary: Some soft Jazz. Sam and Jack dancing. A bit of thoughtful reflection. Post Continuum with mild spoilers. Sam and Jack established. Mostly fluff, with a splash of gutter and a pinch of angst, just because.


**In Other Words**

By

AstraPerAspera

_Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars _

_Let me see what Spring is like on Jupiter and Mars _

_In other words, hold my hand… _

_In other words…kiss me… _

_Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more _

_You are all I long for, all I worship and adore _

_In other words, please be true._

_In other words, I love you._

"You told them to play this song, didn't you?"

The look he gave her was of such feigned innocence that she couldn't help the laugh that escaped, prompting several of the couples dancing nearby to glance their way. In the dim light she could see him struggle to maintain the façade even as a corner of his mouth twitched, betraying what she knew was his great delight at being discovered.

"It's an Air Force shin-dig, Carter," Jack replied, a wicked glint in his eyes. "What else are they going to play? _Beyond the Sea_?"

She felt his hand against the small of her back pulling her closer. Not that there was much of her that wasn't already snug against him—a fact she was trying not to think about too much at the moment. Just as she was trying not to notice, for the umpteenth time, how strikingly handsome he was in Mess Dress—or how her skin practically burned where his hand rested on her bare back—or how his other hand held hers tightly against his chest, just out of harms way of his medals. Definitely not where her thoughts needed to be. Not with all the Air Force brass in the room—and certainly not when this was the first time they'd been so—well—public about everything. Under the circumstances she thought perhaps a little decorum was in order. But she could tell from the way he was holding her that Jack had given up on subtle a long time ago. It was something she would have to get used to.

Perhaps a little sooner than she'd thought, it seemed. Jack had rested his cheek against hers and she could feel the coolness of his freshly shaved face against what suddenly felt like her own flushed skin. As if of it's own accord, her hand migrated from his shoulder to the back of his head, his recently trimmed hair short and bristle-like beneath her fingers, the curve of his neck fitting perfectly in the palm of her hand. Closing her eyes she could almost imagine no one else was in the room and that the low thrumming bass, the soft brushed cymbals and the lazy jazz piano were playing for just the two of them.

Except….

Sam's eyes flew open and she pulled back slightly.

"You're…humming…?" she asked, incredulously. Jack cocked an eyebrow.

"Was I?" There was that innocent look again.

"There's no need to rub it in, you know. I knew it was lame the moment I said it."

He pulled her back to him and settled himself against her cheek again. The low chuckle that came from deep in his throat sent a delightful shiver down her spine. Not good. Not good at all. Especially since she could see the Chief of Staff and the Vice Chief of Staff standing at two-o'clock over Jack's shoulder. To her relief, neither of them seemed to be looking their way.

"Yes…well. It wasn't one of your most creative moments, I'll give you that," Jack murmured in her ear, guiding her through a small turn that took the two highest ranking Air Force generals out of her sight. Somehow not actually seeing them made it a little easier. She allowed herself to relax. A bit.

Jack was right though. Moon base. Not her best ad lib. She was sure the others had seen through it just as easily. Not that they had truly understood—and neither, she suspected, had Jack. Not if the way he'd ribbed her about it later—and even now continued to tease her—were any indication.

Which was fine with her. At least that way she knew he was misdirected from the truth: that her feeble cover story was all about keeping an eye on him—about making sure that the impassive face he'd presented to the Tok'ra and SG-1 wasn't one of his well-practiced masks that she knew he used to hide the deepest wells of emotions. She'd seen how Ba'al still pushed his buttons. How controlled and calculated his response had been to Ba'al's needling and idle threats. The edgy humor that she hadn't seen for a long time had bubbled to the surface ever so momentarily and she'd known then that those long buried fears had been stirred out of dormancy.

But as they'd watched the vile symbiote thrash about, pathetically vulnerable on the stone floor, she'd glanced at him again, wary. And beneath the on-cue nonchalance and indifference she'd seen the tension leave his shoulders, the muscles in his jaw relax, the barely perceptible sigh. Moments later, Ba'al had been dead and Jack was free. At least she'd hoped he was.

Which was why she'd trailed after him. Because in spite of the lunch invitation, he'd seemed in an awful hurry to get out of there and not linger any longer than he had to. So she'd wanted to make sure. And for some unfathomable reason Bill Lee's latest absurd proposal had popped into her head.

"Don't leave me like that, Carter." Jack's voice snapped her back to the present. His eyes caught hers even in the dimmed light. He'd been watching her.

"Sorry," she apologized, fumbling. "I was just…."

"Dwelling. I know. I can tell by the look. Whatever it is, let it go, Sam."

She searched his face, softer now than the first time she'd looked into it, half-admiringly, half-defensively, from across the briefing room table. Sometimes she marveled at how little his life showed on it. Except of course for his eyes, which, if she caught him unaware, still revealed shadows of regret and remorse. But not nearly as often as they used to. And certainly not now. He'd been fine after Ba'al's death. He was fine now.

Jack was right. It was time to let it go.

She pulled him to her and kissed him. The room, the musicians, the crowd, the Chief of Staff and the Vice Chief of Staff all faded from existence. There was only Jack. His lips. His hands. His body pressed against hers. Just the two of them. For a very long time.

The music faded in first. The low bass as counterpoint to the rapid beating of her own heart. The piano. Now a vocalist. She became aware of other voices as the hum of the room came back up. And Jack, damn him, had a look of bemused victory on his face. She'd been out-maneuvered. By the best.

Resuming the dance, her head again resting against his, they turned once more and she saw the generals hadn't moved from their spot. The Vice Chief of Staff leaned over and said something to his counterpart who grinned. He caught Sam's gaze and, still smiling, gave a slight nod. Jack turned one more time, and the men vanished from her view.

Not that it mattered now anyway.

Jack was free.

And so was she.

It was time, finally, to dance.

**A/N:** _Fly Me To The Moon_ music and lyrics by Bart Howard. Thanks and apologies to mara-anni, JenniferJF and anyone else who's written a Sam/Jack dance fic. You all inspired me. Also, a special nod to Seahen who always cheerfully keeps me on the USAF's straight and narrow.


End file.
